


striking of a match

by cptsuke



Series: carry fire with one hand and ice with the other [1]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Gen, Lewis Snart's A+ Parenting, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-28
Updated: 2016-10-28
Packaged: 2018-08-27 13:10:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8402938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cptsuke/pseuds/cptsuke
Summary: mick meets len in juvie, he doesn't expect the partnership to last too long.





	

Mick doesn't believe in fate or destiny or any of the bullshit people talk about when chance changes everything. He's not sure what to call meeting Leonard Snart, but in the end, giving some fancy name wouldn't change nothing, and Mick don't really care either way.

He just happens to be near, within earshot of a punched out cry of pain from a small group of fellow inmates. It peaks his interest, doesn't sound like the typical fight or bullying that's commonplace here. Mick gets close enough to see that the object of the group's current hate is just some kid, small in all the ways that makes someone a target in places like these. Small enough to look like he might be too young to be in a place like this to some, but Mick's bunked with an eight year old that slit his own sister's throat; so he's not stupid enough to think young equaled innocent and this kid? This kid might be bleeding, but he sure as hell is _angry._

 _(_ Somewhere in the future Mick'll kneel over a bruised, bloody and _older_ Snart, but he won't be angry, he'll be tired and _done_ and this is moment that will stay Mick's hand.)

Mick doesn't know why he steps in, not at the time – doesn't much like the six on one mentality, definitely doesn't like the way the leader has a bloody shiv in his hand - a beating is one thing but a shiv doesn't teach any lesson but a permanent one.

So step in he does, blindsides the nearest kid with a hit to the back of his head and knocks the next two to the ground before any of them know he's there. He's got the leader by the scruff of the neck, all but lifting him off the ground, shaking him til he drops the shiv as the group starts milling like they're trying to decide whether to run or fight.

The kid just glares at Mick – at everyone really – not ready to accept that Mick's helping him just because it looks like it - smart kid - then he's lashing out at the guy Mick's holding. There's blood at the bottom of his sweatshirt but he moves like it's merely an inconvenience; used to taking a beating but angry about it anyway.

Mick lets go of the guy, lets the kid get his hits in as Mick stands a sort of guard. The rest of the boys don't seem all that interested in fighting no more.

Kid doesn't really do much damage - but doesn't take much either – he doesn't let up, attacks with a fire that adds a bit more fun to the whole thing.

 

Later when the guards have finally decided to do their job and they're all on the ground, the kid grins at him - one eye swollen shut, blood slicking his teeth - it's not a particularly friendly baring of teeth but Mick likes the honesty of it.

Guards, warden, and everyone want to know what started the fight, why Mick supposedly stepped in, but Mick just shrugs, can't put it into words how much he doesn't like seeing fire put out anyway. The way his mind works never seemed to make much sense to people on the rare occasion he tried to explain himself. His mind is always on fire but his tongue never seems all that willing to share.

 

The fight puts another six months on Mick's sentence, he should care – be angry or something – but while this might be Mick's longest stint in juvie, it is by no means his first, nor probably even his last. Both state and he are just biding time til he hits eighteen, whether he spends it in a home or in a place like this, doesn't seem to matter much either way.

 

He eventually finds out the kid – _Leonard Snart -_ isn't actually that young - fourteen, little over a year younger than himself – and Mick wants to have a go at punching him just for daring to be so small in a place like this. Story is he's in here for a _diamond_ _h_ _ei_ _st_ of all things. So the rumor goes anyway. There's another that follows behind it saying it's all bullshit, that the little fucker made it all up to sound tough – like he was _better_ than all them – but Mick hasn't seen the kid say _anything_ let alone brag about some hypothetical heist.

Mick can't think of a single reason why a professional crew would have a skinny fourteen year old on their team, but the kid's silence on the whole subject lends something to the truth of it.

The kid with the stupid name and unlikely crime settles oddly in Mick's mind. Maybe it's the fire in his eyes or maybe it's something undefinable, but either way Mick is intrigued.

 

Snart doesn't seek him out after he gets released from the infirmary. The two of them end up running into each other at what's Not A Great Time for Mick.

Mick doesn't need for much, not really. Never felt the need for companionship – never met anyone he liked that much – doesn't care much for what he eats or where he sleeps. The thing – the _only_ thing – that really fucks him up is when one of the few things he _does_ like gets taken from him. It's less than a week since the guards tossed his bunk, confiscated his lighter - took his fire away from him – and Mick's friendly nature is starting to go.

He's holed up in one of the quieter bathrooms, washing his face and planning bloody retribution for the asshole that snitched on him. He knows who - the guy hasn't been subtle about it hate-on for him ever since Mick had broke his nose during the brawl with the kid - not long before the tossing and taking.

This time 'round Mick's really going to hurt the jerk.

So he's not in the mood for the sour faced little kid who he can blame this whole thing on.

“What's the matter Michael?” He's expecting something quiet, not the drawling, snide voice that comes out of the kid. “Not feeling _corrected_?”

Not in the mood to hear that either.

“Mick.” He growls back, a desire to never hear that name again more than friendship prompting him.

“Mick.” Snart echoes him, testing out the name like he's deciding whether or not he wants to use it.

Mick turns on the kid – sick of the slow way he talks and angry at everything – ready to feel the brief relief that adrenaline and violence will gain him when something hits him in the chest.

His hands catch whatever it is before it can fall to the floor and he knows what it is without looking at it; can feel the familiar edges and soft striking sides. It's not his lighter – ' _don't know whose holding that'_ Snart drawls, frowning like he _should_ know – but the rattle of matches in their box is the next best thing.

“I'm Leo.”

“I ain't calling you that.” Mick says just to throw the kid off his game. He's too damn smooth for a short, skinny, too small fourteen year old.

The kid's glare is a funny little thing, almost a pout, and Mick grins at him some more just to piss him off more.

“My little sister calls me Lenny sometimes.” He mumbles almost shyly, chin tucking down to his chest like he's sharing something important.

 

The two of them, serial arsonist and diamond thief, they make a tenuous deal in that quiet bathroom.

Len keeps him flush with matches and Mick doesn't burn the place down.

(well, Mick only lights one _real_ fire but he sweetens the deal by keeping the particularly nasty kids from stomping Len's smart mouth into the ground.)

Snart – Leo? Lenny? Len? -is a ball of angry glares, with a perpetually down turned mouth and never ending stream of drawling, sharp comments. Kid looks at the walls around them like they're pieces of a puzzle from which he can build something new. And not in the any way that Central City brochures might want to advertise.

Len studies him from a far, like he knows Mick's flammable and he can't decide whether or not to light the match.

Len's an asshole – all sarcasm, shitty puns and unimpressed glares - but Mick kind of likes him anyway.

They're friends, he thinks, for all the frowns and exasperated _Mick's_ he gets from Len, he's comfortable around the kid and Len don't flinch so much when Mick gets close. Doesn't even lean away when Mick gets too close. Some days he even manages to distract Mick from a flame and the days he doesn't, Len seems to understand that sometimes Mick just has to _burn_.

Sometimes, Mick thinks that maybe under all that cool, Snart burns too.

 

Then one day Len comes back from visitation, on edge, and that's how Mick finds out that all those hot glares and flat looks are nothing compared to the cold rage that's burning in his eyes now. Mick wonders what could put that look on his face if being shivved didn't.

Len never tells him – he figures it out, years later when he meets Lisa, does the maths of a years old broken bottle scar on the one person Len will do anything for – but come the 6pm count, Leonard Snart is gone.

He's still missing the next night.

And the next.

Mick spends those days getting dragged into the warden's office, yelled at, accused and threatened, but Mick doesn't know anything, so he just insults and glares at anyone who sits across the table from him. If he did know anything, he'd have been wherever the hell Snart was now.

(He's more than a little angry about being left behind)

 

Come, mid morning on the fourth day Len walks stiffly back through the doors, his father's heavy hand on his shoulder. Mick's outside the Warden's office waiting for his daily interrogation, when they walk past. Len's face is half covered in bruises, a mass of fading red, purple and blue.

The door swings to an almost closed, and Mick watches the show unfold through where it's cracked open.

Snart senior is a fucking _master_ at spinning a sob story. Almost has the secretary in tears as he tells about how hurt and scared little Leo had been when he showed up on his doorstep. How sorry he was. How he hadn't known what else to do or where else to go. Says it all with hard eyes and a little self deprecating smile, the sort of lying smile that other adult's never seem to see through.

And Len just sits there, shoulders hunched, head down, looking for all the world the scared little kid from the tale his dad is selling.

Mick almost buys it, fists forming at the thought that it only took three days to reduce someone like Len into this quaking shell, but then, in between apologising for the actions of his stupid son Snart Snr says something about little Leo never _learning lessons_ and Len looks up. Just for a moment his face morphs with a beautiful murderous rage, then he's looking back down at his knees, face a cool blank.

Something calms in Mick at that. Len's still in there.

Warden seems to buy the story – Len's bruises are the right colors to be several days old, and though there's a poorly wiped away smudge of blood ringing one his nostrils like maybe his dad gave him a refresher course in the car, but all the adults talk around Len like he's merely a set piece in this shitshow anyway – and pretty soon they're out in the reception with Mick, leaving the kid behind all forgot.

Through the cracked door Mick watches Len, alone in the Warden's office, watches him stand up and disappear for a moment. Mick glances at the adults - still shaking hands, Snart senior apologising for the supposed actions of his stupid son, and acting like he's not the one who probably put that hurt on his own kid – and when Mick looks back Len's right back in his chair, head down looking the picture of contrition.

Mick leans back in his chair, has no need to hide his grin because everyone in this room is a fucking idiot and Mick's the only one with his eyes open.

 

The remaining three months of Len's sentence burn away faster than shitty plyboard, Len's a model inmate except when he's not and even Mick's close to something that's sort of civil. Best he's ever been anyhow.

It's weird, Len talks a lot more now; long winding sentences delivered in a voice that seems almost weary of speak, has Mick equally reaching for something to throw at him and more amused than he'll ever admit. Like having an annoying puppy that likes the sound of his own voice but somehow it's easier to pass time with Len at his side.

Easier to pass it without crossing so many of lines that usually trip him up no matter how hard Mick used to try.

And that's something.

Maybe even something good.

 

Mick doesn't really know how to say goodbye when he actually means it, he doesn't think he's ever actually cared to before.

So Mick just gives a playful shove, stops short of the one armed hug he might've done with anyone else cause Len's got boundary issues and Mick's heavy handed even when he's trying. Growls a 'look after yourself, buddy' at him because god knows no one else is going to.

“See you round Mick.” Len says with a quiet sort of smirk on his face, throwing something at Mick.

A lighter. _His_ lighter.

When Mick finally looks up from the shiny metal firestarter Len's gone, off to spend the day getting released into society and Mick finds himself thinking he might actually miss the little bastard.

 

The next time he sees Len, Mick's three days off his eighteenth birthday and breathing free air, leaning against the wall outside the gates looking for all the world like he's not waiting for anyone, finally as long limbed as the width of his wrists had promised three years past.

He throws Mick a set of keys, with a smirk and a ' _lets get you a drink_ ' he walks away, not even looking back to see if Mick's following.

Mick's got neither a driver's license or any sort of fake ID, and he strongly suspects whatever car Len's brought won't exactly be legally owned, but Mick grins and follows him anyway.

His mother always used to say he was destined to fail, but Mick keeps his plans simple. And right now he's going to take his friend and his friend's probably stolen car to a bar and have a drink.

Mick has no doubt his new lease on free life will eventually end with him exploring the adult penal system and maybe later tonight he'll be drunk and start a fire, something big and consuming. But, maybe – with Len in the passenger seat sing-songing _seatbelt_ like a goddamned soccer mom – maybe he's going to enjoy his time in the sun.


End file.
